


The bravest kid

by Linger1536



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Reminisce, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 01:45:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9151360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linger1536/pseuds/Linger1536
Summary: “Mind me asking where you from?”He doesn't feel any animosity from the young man so he allows the word to slip past his lips. “Coruscant.”The younger man leans forward, eyes alive with excitement. “Coruscant? I had a friend who went there.”“Really?”“Yes, a long time ago.” He sticks out his hand. “Name's Kitster by the way.”The older man takes it. “Ben.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars!
> 
> Rest in peace Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds, you will be missed.
> 
> This was born from my other story Repentance, I was reading up on Kitster to add him into the story and I came about the story of how he and Anakin had saved children from slavery which inspired me to write this.

He had been told stories about it but it is when he encounters a young man in a dark corner of Chalmun's Cantina that he really comes to grasp with what he has been told.

There is a sloshing sound and then a glass of blue milk slides into view. The weary man studies it for a second before raising his eyes to look at the stranger who has his hands braced on top of the table.

“Curtsy of … well me,” the stranger says flashing him a grin.

The older man arches an eyebrow but nevertheless brings the glass to his lips and takes a big sip, savoring the sweet taste. “Many thanks.”

The stranger flops down into the unoccupied chair next to him, spreading himself out while running a hand through his raven locks. “You're new.”

The older man nods. “Yes.”

The younger man scrutinizes him, dark eyes wander over his well kept appearance. “Not a slave?”

“No.”

He lets out a barking laugh that has the older man's lips twitching, amused. “Then why come to this wretched place?”

“I've got history here,” the older man replies before taking another sip of the milk.

This sparks the young man's interest and he leans forward. “'s that so? I've never seen you around before.”

The older man shakes his head. “It was a long time ago.”

“Mind me asking where you from?”

He doesn't feel any animosity from the young man so he allows the word to slip past his lips. “Coruscant.”

The younger man leans even closer, and his eyes are alight with excitement. “Coruscant? I had a friend who went there.”

“Really?”

“Yes, a long time ago.” He sticks out his hand. “Name's Kitster by the way.”

The older man takes it. “Ben.”

Kitster buys them drinks and once he is slightly intoxicated he begins to spill stories about his childhood, talking about his old friend. “He was a talented kid,” he confesses as he stares out into space, lost in a memory. “He always wanted to help everyone,” he shakes his head, chuckling to himself, “got us into a lot of trouble.”

Ben smiles, his eyes cloud over as he allows himself to think of the boy Anakin had been, not much different from Kitster's friend.

“Ever met a Ghostling?” Kitster asks, sipping at a smoking drink.

Ben's grey eyes sparkle with interest as he leans in closer over the table. “I must confess I have not, though I hear they are beautiful creatures.”

Kitster nods in agreement. “So they are... it's what makes them so desirable as slaves.”

A look of disgust flashes across Ben's face.

“Many years ago when I was just a boy,” Kitster continues, putting his now empty glass on the table, “A couple of Ghostling children came into the possession of Sebulba...” he stops and looks at Ben with serious eyes, “him you want to stear clear off.”

Ben nods in agreement. He has heard many tales of this vile being. Tales Anakin had told him of with a look of sheer disgust on his young face.

“My friend he found out about this,” Kitster continues in a voice that grows softer with each word as he speaks of the boy long gone. “He was a slave himself and knew the horrors of such a life and so he wanted to free them before Sebulba could have slave transmitters implanted inside of them.” The young man absentmindedly rubs his thumb against the wrist of his right arm. “So he and I together with our friends set out on a mission to free them,” he chuckles to himself looking up at Ben. “A group of slave children attempting to rescue another group of children soon to be slaves, can you imagine?”

Ben shakes his head. “No, I suppose I cannot.”

“Do you know what a slave tracker does if a slave were to run away?”

Ben strokes a hand along his beard. “It explodes.”

Kitster nods vigorously. “BOOM and it's all over.” His eyes glimmer mischievously as his lips from into a crocked smile. “They also work pretty well as bombs... a perfect way to create an escape maneuver.”

Ben's lips quirk up into the barest of smiles. “I'd say.”

“We hit a few bumps in the road,” Kitster admits as he leans back in his chair. “There was an arrangement made for our execution but my friend he escaped, only to break into our cells to free us. He was special... the way he moved it was as if he could will the air to launch him into the sky, or gain him speed... I've never seen anything like it since.”

 _The Force,_ Ben thinks to himself. “What happened next?”

Kitster chuckles fondly. “He had stolen a landspeeder, the kid had guts, and so he flew us all to Bantha rock, it's located in the desert,” he adds after seeing the look of confusion on the older man's face. “We had all pitched in with what little money we had, he himself had sold parts for a podracer he was working on so that we could pay a smuggler to transport the Ghostlings off of this wretched planet.”

Ben sips at his drink in contemplation before finally setting it down on the table next to his newfound friend's empty one. “He sounds like quite the courageous boy.”

Kitster smile fades slowly only to be replaced by forlorn sadness. “He was.”

They stay there for quite sometime, nursing their drinks as they both ponder on their tragic pasts until Kitster finally gets back up on his feet, scraping his chair against the floor as he does. “I am afraid I have things I must tend to,” he says glancing at the exit of the cantina.

Ben smiles and nods in understanding. “Of course, my friend.”

Kitster tips his head down in a goodbye and turns around about to leave but he has only gotten a few meters when Ben stops him with one last question.

“Your friend, what was his name?”

“Anakin,” a fond smile passes over Kitster face, “his name was Anakin Skywalker and he was the braves kid I've ever met.”

 


End file.
